Crazy for Trying
by Chloe Winchester
Summary: Dean tries to help someone and ends up in an insane asylum from Hell. Hurt!Dean Another boredom drabble Please R&R set in season 2
1. Chapter 1

--Uh-oh, I got bored again! Hope you like it--

**Crazy for Trying**

**Day One**

"Linda, listen to me," Dean said, pleading with the woman holding the phone in front of him. "I'm trying to help you! If you don't listen to me you will _die_. Please, put the phone down."

He couldn't go to jail. If he went to jail the FBI would figure out where he was and send him and Sam to Death Row.

The woman stared at him, phone still in hand, wide eyed.

"Linda, I'm trying to help you, you have to believe me. Don't call the cops, okay?"

God, why did Sam have to be doing research at a time like this?

"I didn't call the police." She said, finally dropping the phone. He looked confused before it finally dawned on him.

"No, Linda, please tell me you didn't-" The door opened. Two men a lot larger than him came into the door, dressed in white. Dean turned, ready to fight.

How on Earth they got the drop on him, he had no idea, but they did. And their iron grips didn't help. He struggled against them, muscles tense, veins straining in his neck. The men held tight struggling to hold him.

"Let me go you sons a bitches!" He bellowed, writhing back and forth. They were dragging him back, toward the large van outside.

"Linda! Linda, you have to get out of the house! It'll kill you if you don't!" She merely looked at him in disgust. Before he could say anything else a needle was stuck into his neck. He grunted, pulling away from it, but it was too late. The sedative was already working. His eyes started to close against his will.

"Sammy…"

* * *

He opened his eyes, time and location lost to him. He tried moving his hands but found his wrists sore and bound with Flex-Cuffs behind his back. He lifted his head off of the floor of the van, trying to see out the translucent windows. Before he could make anything out the van stopped. He waited, and he didn't have to wait long.

The double doors to the back of the van opened and the two men hauled him out, dropping him onto the hard concrete. He gasped, the wind leaving his lungs. The men picked him back up and hauled him toward a large white building. Dean looked around the surrounding area. There was nothing. Nothing but the paved road that led here and this building for as far as he could see. Fear welled inside him. He looked back up at the insane asylum he was being dragged toward, wondering what his fate could possibly be here. He knew it wouldn't be good, and he doubted he would be allowed to call Sam.

He started to fight against them again. The effects of the sedative hadn't quite worn off yet, but he tried.

A tazer was shoved into his side before he could gain any kind of advantage. He cried out, tensing at the electricity coursing through him. When it pulled away he coughed, inhaling raggedly. The doors opened and a rush of cold air met him. Air conditioner was a good thing, but not in November.

The entire place was white. The floor, the walls, the ceiling, the uniforms, everything. The lobby had high ceilings and a desk off to the side.

A man stepped forward in a doctor's get up stepped forward. His glasses rested on the bridge of his nose, his balding head shining in the fluorescent lighting.

"Hello, Dean," He said. Dean scowled at him. "Yes, I know who you are. Or, at least your first name. Dear Linda didn't catch your last name. She said you were going on about ghosts and evils that were plaguing her. She said you made threats against her life," Dean remained silent. "So, we're going to keep you here until you're better. And there is a way to get out. All you have to do is tell me you're crazy and you can leave."

"You think I'm gonna give in to an ugly asshole like you?" Dean smirked. "You got another thing coming, Chuckles." The man frowned.

"You may address me as Dr. Manning. And you just had your first demerit, Dean," He said. "Our demerit system is simple. You break one of my rules, you lose a piece of clothing. As you can see we keep it pretty cool here. Clothes are key. If you behave enough you might even earn an item back." Manning looked at one of the men holding Dean.

"Take him to the showers and then to 405," The man nodded. They started dragging Dean away again, and though he fought, his fate was set. "Welcome to The Asylum, Dean."

* * *

The showers were horrible. He was thrown into the concrete room, back slamming into a wall. Before he could fully get his bearings the men were on him again.

His clothes were literally ripped from his body piece by piece until he was completely naked. He barely registered what was going on while it was happening. He struggled and squirmed with all his might, and he was rewarded with tazers stabbing at him. One tossed him against the wall again, causing him to cough and arc his back.

Then the water. Water from a type of small fire hose that felt like millions of needles stabbing his skin. It was like being dumped in a tub of fiberglass shards.

He shielded his face from the force of it, crying out and curling into a ball. He clamped his arms over his head, his screams being drowned out by the roar of the water.

He was trapped in a vacuum in which you took your breaths sparingly and tried not to drown for the rest.

When it finally stopped he tried not to collapse. The icy water and the air around him made him tremble uncontrollably, coughing.

Dr. Manning walked in, smiling down at him. Dean scowled up at him, huddling over his knees in an attempt to cover himself.

"I think breaking you will definitely be one to remember. But you will break, Dean. I can guarantee it." Manning bent down in front of him. Suddenly his hand lashed out and yanked the necklace off of his neck. Dean winced and followed it with his eyes, part of him pleading for Manning to give it back.

"Wouldn't want you to use it as a weapon," He said, grinning. "Don't worry, it'll be with your personal effects. You'll get it back as soon as you meet our agreement," He looked up at the two men. "Take him to 405." He turned and walked out of the room.

A man threw clothes at him.

Dean quickly put them on his soaked skin, simultaneously looking for a way out.

"Don't even think about it." The man closest to Dean said. He swallowed and pulled the flimsy shirt over his head. He guessed that his previous demerit deprived him of anything on his feet.

He watched the men bounce the clubs in their hands, looked at the size of them. He could take them, if he was uninjured and pumped full of steroids. But that just wasn't the case right now. Before he could do anything else he was struck in the back by one of their blunt instruments. He collapsed on his stomach, coughing and wincing. His arms were forced behind his back and bound with real handcuffs. He was hauled up to his feet and dragged down a long hall with freezing floors.

The handcuffs were undone and he was shoved into the room. He spun around, ready to fight but the door slammed in his face. He looked around, legs wobbling and threatening to floor him. And they would have if he wouldn't have grabbed the bed. Well, that is if you want to call it a bed. It was more of a cot. A mattress stained with God knows what, a thin blanket and a flimsy pillow was all he had to work with. But he'd take it. He lied down, wrapping the blanket tightly around himself, curling into a ball. The room was dark and freezing. He shivered occasionally.

And, knowing he was alone in the dark, he allowed just one tear to fall.

"Sammy, where are you?"

**Day Four**

_I really need to learn how to keep my mouth shut._ He thought. And it wasn't the first time he had thought it either.

He'd gone through the motions those first few days, trying to get a feel of the place, trying to figure out where the exits were. And there was one. Through the front door. But today, no today he decided not to just simply take the random blows the guards gave. This time when the big dude hit him, he got right back up and hit him back.

That's how he ended up here.

Manning had seen what had happened, unfortunately, and immediately ordered three other men to subdue him. And it took all three of them, too.

They finally forced him to his knees, wrenching his wrists behind his back and cuffing them together.

Manning stepped forward, that same soft smile on his lips, like he knew that he was smarter than you. Like he was God and you were just some bug he could crush.

One of the goons behind him grabbed a handful of his hair and forced his head up.

"You're off to a very rocky start, Dean," He said. "And you'll be punished for it," He knelt down in front of him. "And we can make it very small if you apologize to Bernard here for striking him." Dean smirked his infamous smirk.

"Eat me." He said. Manning frowned and straightened up.

"Take him to eleven. Don't start without my say so." They dragged him in the opposite direction he was facing. He craned his neck to see over his shoulder, but there was no point. He tried struggling again, and all that got him was the men dropping him and kicking him a few times. Before he knew it he was in another room and the cuffs were being taken off. Before he could try and do anything he was hauled up and slammed onto a metal slab. He felt a needle slide into his neck and he grunted, distracting him from his original fight with the people trying to restrain him.

"Let me go you sons a bitches!" He bellowed, his strength fading. While the men held him down a woman with a hard and unforgiving face started to strap him down. She didn't even look at him. The men's hands released him, leaving him to fight the restraints uselessly.

He looked around the room, past the orderly's blank and indifferent faces. He saw something with a knob on the wall closest to him, and a sign next to it that said high voltage. His heart rate sped and his eyes grew when he understood what was about to happen.

Manning stepped in, smiling at him. Dean scowled at him, wanting to rip that contented smile right off of his face.

"Tell me you're crazy, Dean. Admit what you are and this can be avoided."

"Screw you, pal." He spat. Manning shook his head, sadly almost. He looked at the nurse closest to the knob.

"Do it." A piece of rubber was shoved in his mouth before the agony started.

As the electricity pumped through his veins his body caught on fire. His blood boiled and pounded in his head. His hands clenched into fists and his tendons were on the verge of snapping.

And then it stopped. His hands uncurled, breath hitching in his chest. He gasped for air, not even bothering to spit the mouthpiece out.

"Tell me you're crazy." Manning repeated. Dean shook his head. And it started all over again. After every time Manning would tell him to tell him he was crazy. And Dean said no every time.

"Alright, Dean," Manning said after an eternity on this table. His whole body throbbed and buzzed with pain and heat. "If I electrocute you one more time you will die," He said. Dean believed it. "But I can throw you in the hole for awhile." He nodded to two orderlies he wasn't familiar with. The straps were undone and he was hauled off the table. He landed on his knees, crying out weakly and wheezing thereafter.

"Oh, almost forgot." Manning said. He lashed out suddenly at him, grabbing the collar of his shirt and ripping it off. Dean grunted, looking up at Manning with pleading eyes. Though it was hard to believe, it was colder in this place without it.

"Try and behave. You're running out of things for us to take." He said.

Dean hardly had any strength at all to fight the straight jacket that was being put on him. He nearly fell over more than once, each time being steadied by one of the gorillas behind him. The straps were tightened painfully around him, crushing his already aching chest.

Once again he was hauled away down an unforeseen hall. A door creaked open and he was tossed in.

He fell like a sack of flour. He coughed, his breath coming in gasps. The constant orders for him to admit he was crazy were starting to wear on him. Starting to mess with his head just a little.

His entire body begged for rest. His mind begged for a release from the pain. And his heart begged for his brother.

"Sammy, please, hurry."

Tbc…

--Okay, the next chap'll be a lot faster, i promise :D Feedback please!--


	2. Chapter 2

**Crazy for Trying**

**Day 8**

Eyes accustomed to black air. Frigid air. He'd spent forever in this place, unable to move his arms. Unable to do much of anything except roll over.

After he was over the general shock of being here and grew used to the silence and the dark, hallucinations began to plague him. Visions of his father whispering that he had to kill his little brother, Sam looking down at him with yellow eyes, confessing that he was evil and Dad was right, his mother plastered to the ceiling, blood dripping from her stomach, flames all around her. So many times he had screamed in this place, trying to cover his ears to stifle their voices. He'd close his eyes, he'd yell back at them but it never helped. One glorious time Sam came to him, saving him, taking him away from this nightmare, a soothing hand on his forehead. But a twinge of pain in his aching arms brought him back to reality. And that had reduced him to tears.

Now he stared into the dark, Manning's words spinning around in his head. Maybe he was crazy. Maybe, just maybe…

Suddenly light met his swollen, tired eyes and he tried not to scream. It hurt so much to look at it. He clamped his eyes closed, turning his face away from the horrible light. Rough hands yanked him up and dragged him away from the dark place he wanted to leave, but not like this. Not with these men.

The light was blinding. He tried to open his eyes, tried very hard but God it was so damn bright. It grew easier as the seconds ticked by, his eyes growing accustomed to the harsh fluorescents.

The men dropped him on his knees, making him yelp in pain. Manning's blurred face suddenly appeared in front of his, grabbing his chin and forcing his eyes up, closer to the light that burned.

"Look at me, Dean." He said calmly. Dean obeyed without giving the action much thought. Manning became clearer and clearer, he was almost able to completely open his eyes.

Manning grinned and dropped his face.

The straps of the jacket came undone without warning. The fabric slipped off and his arms were free.

He remembered now how cold it was here. He started to shiver, wrapping his arms around himself, joints resisting him. He kept his head down, trying to think about anything else other than the place he was in right now.

"Take him to the showers," Manning barked. Dean's eyes grew at his words. "Then take him to 18."

* * *

Room 18 was the cafeteria. Dean was shoved into a seat, trembling and near soaked, the remainder of his clothes sticking to him. A bowl filled with something he couldn't name was shoved in front of him before the orderly walked away.

Dean stared at it. He wanted to eat, but what if they put something in it? The man sitting across from him glanced up from his own bowl.

"You should eat," He said. Dean looked up. The man nodded. "Don't worry there's nothin' in it. But you need to eat. It'll keep your strength up."

Dean picked up his spoon with limp fingers and swallowed some of the strange soup. It was cold too.

"How long were you in there?" The man asked. Dean gave him a confused look, swallowing another mouthful of the foul liquid. "The Hole, how long were you in there?" Dean shrugged.

"Three, four days." He said. His voice was hoarse from lack of use, and it hurt. The man nodded, scratching his head. He was older, potbellied, with a gray walrus-like mustache under his nose. He had kind eyes and a gentle demeanor. Not the least bit crazy.

"Man, no wonder you look like shit," He said, smiling lightly. Dean tried to smile back. "My name's Ralph," The older man extended his hand across the table. Dean shook it. "And I'm not crazy."

"'M Dean," Dean mumbled. "And I ain't crazy either." Ralph nodded, his face serious.

"And don't you let these assholes tell you otherwise. If you're not crazy, then damn it, don't tell them you are." He said. Dean nodded.

"I won't." He said. A whistle blew somewhere and everyone stood. Dean did as well, though it was delayed and his legs shook.

"Be careful kid," Ralph said, glancing in the direction of the orderlies coming Dean's way. "And keep fightin'."

The orderlies grabbed Dean and hauled him away while the others went on their own accord.

Dean was thrown back into his room, collapsing to the floor, legs giving up. The door shut behind him with a loud clang. Somehow he mustered the strength to pull himself up onto the bed and wrap the blanket around his naked chest. He'd never been so cold. He'd never felt more helpless. He'd never felt more like breaking in his life.

He was losing hope that Sam would come. Sam hadn't come for him yet, and it had been at least a week. Maybe Sammy didn't need him, or didn't want him. Maybe he decided that he could go back to Stanford without him holding him back.

But maybe, just maybe, Sam was looking everywhere for him. Maybe he just hadn't connected all the dots yet. The thought made Dean want to scream at the top of his lungs "I'M HERE, SAMMY! I'M HERE!" But he was powerless here. So he lied there, huddling together as close as he could for some amount of warmth.

And he couldn't help but thinking that what Manning said was true. Maybe he was crazy…

**Day 12**

His face plunged into the water again. Sound and sight disappeared. The only thing that existed in this place was his lungs begging him for some oxygen. But over and over and over again they were denied.

Manning was screaming at him but he could barely hear it. But he knew what he wanted. He wanted Dean to admit that there were no such things as ghosts and he was insane. Dean wouldn't give in. He refused.

And even though he was crying from the pain, screaming without shame and considering whether or not he should start begging.

Before he could Manning ordered them to stop. He grabbed Dean's hair and forced his face up. Dean knew this look. He had seen it before many times when someone was fed up with him. With his nearly unshakeable will and being so damn stubborn, he didn't blame them. But he would still not give into them.

Dean hated this man. Hated him for keeping him imprisoned here. Hated him for taking his clothes, most recently his pants. Hated him for humiliating him like this.

"Tell me you are crazy," He hissed. "Tell me ghosts are not real. Say it!" Dean shook his head. "If you say it, this all ends. It all goes away," Dean doubted it. Highly. "Now say it."

Dean spat in his face. Manning grimaced and wiped his face off.

"Take him to 18. Confine him to his room afterward." He growled.

Dean's body was more bruised, his will bent. He'd had pills whose names he didn't know shoved down his throat. But he was still fighting. For how much longer he didn't know. His hope would just not stay. As the minutes came and went he lost more and more hope that his brother would come for him. And he really didn't know how much longer he could take this.

* * *

He was shoved down in front of Ralph again. He looked up at Ralph, who was looking him over, frowning.

"Dean, what the hell have they been doin' to you?" He asked. Dean shook his head, hugging his arms to his chest.

"Y-you don't w-wanna know." He said through chattering teeth. He felt so exhausted, weak even. His breath came in short, rattling gasps. His eyes were bloodshot and bright with an early fever.

Another bowl of something terrible was shoved in front of him. Even though it tasted terrible he was starving. He needed it. Ralph was right, food was strength. He gulped it down, barely tasting it.

"Hey, take it easy, kid," Ralph said. "You gotta take it slow. You'll hurt yourself." Dean nodded and slowed. It was hard. He was _so_ hungry. Suddenly someone came up behind him and took the bowl away. It was an orderly. He smiled maliciously at Dean and went to chuck the bowl.

"No!" Dean said, his voice cracking. He reached out for it, hitting the orderly's arm. The bowl fell regardless.

He stared at it, longing for what was just there moments ago. Other orderlies rushed over, Manning included. He looked down at the bowl, at Dean, and then at the orderly.

"What the hell happened?" He asked.

"He threw the bowl!" The orderly lied. "Just out of the blue." It was obvious to everyone that the man was lying, but Manning didn't need an excuse.

"No!" Dean protested. "No, I didn't! I was trying to get it back! I'm just hungry!" Manning frowned.

He looked at Dean, giving a small nod.

Men stronger than him held him fast and cuffed his hands behind his back. Manning walked toward him, that same calm smile that Dean hated permanently planted on his face. Dean followed him, eyes wide, lower lip trembling. Dean was scared. In a flash Manning's hand shot out at him. Dean shut his eyes and heard a _rriipp_. His last piece of clothing had been taken away.

He stood there in front of all these people, trembling, naked, wounded. Ralph bowed his head, true sympathy in his eyes.

"Take him to five. Maybe it'll teach him some manners," Manning ordered. "Oh, and remember to get him to confess." The men started to drag him away. Ralph stood.

"Hey, leave the kid alone!" He barked. Dean looked up at him, praying he wouldn't do anything stupid. Manning turned, amused.

"Take him too." He said.

"No!" Dean yelled, well, tried to yell. "I'll…I'll take it all." He had no idea what he was agreeing to, but it didn't matter. Ralph was a good guy that was probably here for some stupid reason like Dean was. He didn't need to be punished for being Dean's friend.

"Don't be stupid, kid." Ralph said through gritted teeth.

"You'll take it all?" Manning asked. Dean glanced at Ralph before he answered.

"Yes." He said, voice shaking. And he was being dragged away again.

"No!" Ralph yelled, but it was too late. The large metal door opened and closed before anything else could be done.

* * *

Dean's arms were spread out in front of him, supporting him, keeping him up on this wall. His head hung between them, coughing, leaning against his arm every so often. But the beating was still coming. The clubs were still there, hitting everything they could. His whole body throbbed with agony as the blows continued to attack his ribs, his back, his shoulders, everything. And there was nothing he could do, or it would get worse. So much worse. He'd learned that the hard way several minutes ago.

When his legs finally gave up he collapsed, holding his arms to his chest, shaking. One of the men bent down over him.

"Please…" Dean croaked. "No more, please." The orderly grinned and yanked him up mercilessly. He shoved Dean to the wall again.

"You still have another person to get a beating for." He spat. Dean shut his eyes, letting the tears come freely. He screamed and moaned for hours, or days, maybe even years, he didn't know. All he knew was he fell to the ground a second time, crying and thanking a God he didn't know. He was gripped roughly under his arms and brought to his feet, but only for a moment before he fell down. The men held him and dragged him from the room. They cut through the cafeteria, walking right in front of Ralph, who looked at Dean with pain filled eyes.

Dean was tossed unceremoniously into his room, where the bed had been removed, another previous demerit.

He lay with his cheek pressed against the concrete, keeping his sobs locked in his chest.  
They had been screaming the entire time they were hitting him to admit that he was crazy. And after what Manning had been pounding into his head day after day after day, telling him it was all a hallucination. Nothing but him imagining things. And now, he believed him. It wasn't real. If it was he wouldn't be hurt for it. He wouldn't be punished for the truth. No, no Manning was right, he was crazy.

Just then Manning bent down in front of him, cocking his head to the side to look in Dean's eyes. He wondered what he saw.

"Tell me you're crazy." Manning said.

"I'm crazy." Dean choked. Manning grinned and stood. He started for the door. Dean panicked. "Wait!" Manning faced him. "Wait, y-you said you'd let me go!" Manning grinned and turned his back on him, shutting the door. Dean began to sob. "You said you'd let me go! You said you'd let me go-hoh…" His tears leaked onto the floor, his sobs shaking his whole body. "Please…Sammy ple-hease. Sammy, help me! Please, help me!" But they were empty words. He was sure that Sam had abandoned him. Sam didn't care where Dean was. That's why he'd been here for so long. His hope was gone, and he was broken.

**Day 16**

He was huddled in a corner, freezing from the previous shower, his only contact with anyone since he'd been thrown in here. He held his knees close to him, a tight ball trying not to freeze to death. He heard the door open and he froze, waiting for someone else to hurt him, waiting for some other form of torture.

He hid his face from both the light and the figure walking in it. He sobbed into his knees and began to beg.

"Please, please, don't hurt me!" He said softly. "Please, I didn't do anything, please!"

"Hey, hey, easy," A voice said, trying to coax his face up. Dean fought it, not wanting to be hurt with something else. "Hey, Dean, look at me." Dean looked.

Tears filled his eyes and fell as he looked at the person in front of him.

"Sammy?"

Tbc…

--Whoa! Until the next one, feedback for now!--


	3. Chapter 3

**Crazy for Trying**

**Day 16**

It took me so long to find him. I knew something was wrong when he didn't come back after going to talk to Linda, who's dead now. I called his cell and got voicemail. I tried tracking it but it was turned off.

I found the Impala outside Linda's. That's when I knew someone had taken my brother.

I called Bobby and asked him for help. We had no leads at all whatsoever until we talked to one of the neighbors, disguised as FBI agents. The neighbor said she'd seen a white van with a strange logo on it. After she sketched it I looked for it. I thought I was going to puke when I learned what it was. My brother had been taken to an insane asylum.

It had taken fifteen days for that neighbor to remember the van. And it took another day to get a plan together and actually get there. We just couldn't burst in and spring Dean. We had to do this the right way. So we stood at the counter in suits, flashing fake FBI badges and telling the woman that we'd like to speak to whoever was in charge.

I tried peeking down the hallways, trying to see if I could see him walking around, waiting. I prayed to God he wasn't hurt. If I only knew.

"Can I help you gentlemen?" A man said, walking toward them. We held up our badges.

"We need you to release a patient of yours, sir." Bobby said.

"Doctor," The man corrected. "Dr. Manning. And which patient would that be?"

"His name is Dean," I said, keeping every ounce of emotion I could out of my voice. "He was admitted falsely two weeks ago."

"Oh, he was admitted here, but not falsely, I assure you," Manning said, grinning. I wanted to strangle him then and there. "He was quite out of his mind. But he's much better now. Thanks to our methods."

"And what methods would those be?" Bobby asked.

"Just some of the more efficient from both the past and now. Sometimes you can simply talk to a patient and they will see what they are and get rid of the problem. Others, well, you simply have to drain it from them."

My throat closed and went bone dry at his words.

"Regardless," Bobby said through gritted teeth. "He needs to be released immediately."

"And where do you get the authority to demand such a thing?" Manning asked defensively. Bobby shoved his badge in his face.

"There's my authority, asshole. Now which room is he in?" He asked. Manning merely stared.

"Fine," Bobby barked. "We'll look ourselves."

He went left, I went right.

I darted down the hall, looking through small windows. I saw other patients rooms. I passed through a cafeteria. I saw a room with a metal table most likely used for electro-shock therapy. I tried not to shudder.

It didn't take me long to find him. And now I felt worse about taking so long to find him. I might have been able to save him from this.

He was huddled against the concrete wall, trembling, mumbling something incoherent. I was overwhelmed at what I was seeing. My invincible big brother was naked, shaking, helpless and alone. I swallowed the lump in my throat. As I walked closer to him he curled into himself more, shaking his head.

"I'm crazy," He whispered. "I'm crazy, I'm crazy…" Abruptly he started to cry. I felt my heart plummet.

"Please, please don't hurt me!" He whispered frantically. I swallowed again. "Please, I didn't do anything, please!" I blinked a few times.

"Hey, hey, easy," I said, voice barely cracking. I gently tried to ease his face up, trying to get him to understand that I was there to save him, not hurt him. "Hey, Dean, look at me." I begged.

He looked at me, right in my eyes. And what I saw in his made my heart twist in an agonizing knot.

"Sammy?" He whimpered. I nodded, smiling lightly.

"I'm here, Dean. It's okay now." I assured. I hugged him, knowing that's what he needed by simply looking at him. He cried into my chest, clinging to me for dear life.

"Sam-Sammy." He sobbed, like I would disappear if he didn't say my name.

"Shh…" I soothed, holding him close to me. Then I realized I was getting wet. He was wet, no he was soaked. I quickly shrugged off my jacket and draped it over him. "Dean, why are you wet?" I asked.

"Showers." He shuddered. I looked at his arms and back, seeing the bright red raw patches of skin here and there. I understood what kind of water pressure there was here now. I winced and swallowed.

"It'll be okay, Dean," I assured, hand holding the back of his sopping head. He shivered violently in my arms, leaning as close to me as possible, trying desperately to get warm. "I'm gonna get you out of here, okay? We just have to wait for Bobby." He looked up at me. His eyes, they were as naked as he was. I'd never seen his eyes look so vulnerable before. I've never seen so much pain and fear in his face. And it scared the shit out of me.

"Bobby?" He rasped. I nodded.

"He was helping me find you," I said, hugging him again. "I tried to find you, Dean. I tried so hard. I'm so sorry it took this long. I'm so sorry."

He shook his head.

"'S okay, Sammy."

He was so cold, his face his arms, everything was covered in goosebumps. His teeth chattered, his whole body trembling with him.

His eyes were bloodshot, and it was accented by the deep dark brown circles under them. His irises were bright with fever. His lip was split, a nasty gash throbbed above his right eye. He had some of the blackest bruises I had ever seen decorating his torso, mainly on his ribs and back. There were small burns on his fingertips and in several places on his sides. The side burns looked like tazer marks, but I had no idea how he burned his fingers. His face was pale, his eyelids a mixture of red and purple. He looked so tired, and thin. I could bet money he was starving.

I knew that Manning guy had something to do with it. And I wanted to rip him to shreds for what he had done. But I couldn't think about that right now. Right now I needed to worry about the broken man in my arms.

I couldn't believe how cold they kept this place. I couldn't believe they would leave my brother like this.

"Dean…" I hesitated. "Why are you…naked?" He bowed his head, as if ashamed.

"I was bad," He whispered. "I was very, very bad." I winced, holding him tighter.

The large metal door behind me squeaked open. He whimpered and buried his face into my chest, trying to make himself as small as possible.

"I already said it," He whispered so quietly I could barely hear him. "They won't hurt me, I said it."

I looked over my shoulder.

"It's Bobby, Dean." I said. He relaxed slightly. When Bobby saw my brother his brow knitted together, worry in his eyes.

"What do ya need?" He asked quietly.

"Clothes, whatever they have of his and a blanket." I said, rattling of the supplies quickly. It had snowed last night. If Dean went outside for even a minute like this he'd catch frostbite in an instant. Bobby nodded and reluctantly walked out of the room. I watched the tears leak from under his closed lids and into the stupid button up shirt I'd worn to look professional. His breathing was sharp and short.

"You scared the crap out of me, Dean." I whispered. It was the truth. I thought I might have lost him. But he was here right now. Right here with me.

"Don't let me go, Sammy." He begged, his voice raw. I shut my eyes, swallowing again.

"I won't," I said. "I promise."

Bobby came back a few minutes later, holding what I needed to get him out of here.

Dean jumped every time I touched him, whimpering slightly and keeping his eyes closed. He cried out in protest when I was pulling boxers over his waist.

"Shh, Dean, it's okay," I said, meeting his eyes. I could still see that he hated being so vulnerable, especially in front of me. "It's alright, just relax." He didn't. He couldn't. Not after the past two weeks. He didn't have the luxury of letting any guard down. And he wouldn't until we were far away from this place.

The only personal affect he had was his necklace. I slipped it over his head, trying to give him a sense of identity again.

"Alright, Dean," I said gently. "We're gonna get out of here. We're gonna go to Bobby's. It'll be warm there, okay?" He looked up at me, the smallest flicker of hope deep in his eyes. I could tell from that look he was wondering whether warm still existed.

I hauled him up, slinging his arm over my shoulder as carefully as I could. Bobby came around and lifted his other arm. Dean whimpered and weakly pulled away, leaning into me, hiding his face. He was terrified.

"Hey, hey, hey, easy," I said. "Easy, Dean, it's just Bobby." He looked at me, then at Bobby.

"It's alright, kid," Bobby said. "I ain't gonna hurt ya."

We carried Dean out of there, out of that room, out of that hall, out of this asylum. We passed Manning on the way out. I sneered at him, wanting to rip his face off then and there. Bobby ignored him. Dean shivered and bowed his head, his face paling even more.

I knew that what had happened to my brother was serious. Very serious. Serious enough to stifle his pride and silence any defiance.

Bobby drove the Impala. I sat in the back with Dean, holding his head in my lap. He kept his eyes closed, face half hidden in the blanket. His hand gripped my arm, scared I would leave if he let go.

"It's okay, Dean," I whispered. "You're safe now. You're gonna be fine, okay?"

The drive to Bobby's seemed to take forever. We had the heaters turned up full blast but he was still shivering. He would moan quietly and whimper every so often.

I didn't know what to do. I'd never seen Dean like this. And he was always the one that took care of me, not the other way around. I was just as scared as he was. Well, maybe not.

Bobby pulled the Impala as close to his front porch as he could get it and killed the engine. He and I got Dean into the house. He gasped at the sudden warmth, goosebumps rising again.

Getting him inside was the easy part. Getting him upstairs was the hard part.

"I got it." I told Bobby, getting a better grip on my brother. It'd be harder for all three of us to try and get up all of those steps; the hallway was too narrow.

So I hoisted Dean up those stairs. About halfway up I realized he was trying to help me. He was biting down hard on his lip, struggling to get over the next step. He had been pushed past his breaking point and had been alone for two weeks, and he still didn't want to see me struggle with anything.

"Dean, stop," I said softly. He looked at me, that big brother look on his face. "I got it. It's alright."

I got him into a room and lied him down quickly. He sighed when his head rested on the pillow, closing his eyes and breathing raggedly. I covered him up, tucking the blankets tightly around him.

I touched his forehead, trying to get an estimate for how high his fever was. He opened his eyes and looked up at me.

"Okay," I looked back at him. "Dean, I'll be right back, alright?" I started to get up when I heard a soft whimper.

There were tears in his eyes, his wide, scared eyes. His lower lip trembled and his breath was even more rapid. I sat back down, cupping his neck in my palm.

"Hey, hey, it's alright. I'll be right back. I _promise._ I'm not leaving you, Dean. I have to get some stuff to take care of you, okay?" I nodded, smiling lightly, painfully. I stood and rushed out of the room, trying to hurry as much as I could. I jogged down the stairs and walked into the kitchen and started filling a glass with water.

"Sam?" Bobby said, walking into the room with me. "How is he?"

"Scared shitless." I said, twisting the knob and silencing the faucet. Bobby nodded.

"Whaddaya need?" He asked.

"Uh…" I thought for a moment. "Tylenol, his bag…first aid kit, and, um something warm for him to eat. Like soup or something." Bobby nodded.

"Get your ass back up there. I'll be right behind ya." I ran back upstairs without any other demands. He looked so relieved when I sat back down. I lifted his head and tipped the water glass. He seemed surprised that it was even there. He drank rapidly, only slowing when I asked him to. I pulled the glass away when the door opened behind me. Bobby set his bag on the foot of the bed with the first aid kit. He handed me the Tylenol, looking down at Dean again.

"Thanks." I said. He nodded.

"Be back in a minute." He said before leaving the room. I lifted his head again.

"Alright, take these, Dean." I said, getting ready to tip the pills into his mouth. He tensed, pulling away from me and shaking his head.

"W-what is it? What is-is it?" He asked frantically.

"Dean, it's alright," I said. "Shh, it's just Tylenol. I promise. See?" I titled my hand so he could see the logo on the pills. "I wouldn't give you anything to hurt you, okay?"

He accepted the pills and downed them and the rest of the water. I lied him back down and pulled the covers back. I started to take his shirt off so I could look at the bruises and burns. He shut his eyes, whimpering from what I thought was pain. I learned different when I pulled it completely over his head.

"What d-did I d-do, Sammy?" He asked in a small voice. "W-what did I d-do?" I was confused for a moment. Then I remembered what he said when I asked him why he was naked earlier. He said he was bad.

"No, Dean, you didn't do anything," I said, heart taking another hit. "It's alright. I just need to look at the bruises, okay?" He turned his face into the pillow and nodded, still scared.

The bruises were deep and made him cry out when I barely grazed them. Nothing was broken, thank god. But they probably still hurt like hell. I got him dressed in his own clothes and pressed a thermometer into his mouth. 103. I kept him covered anyway. He didn't deserve to be cold after everything he had been through. I rubbed his forehead, making sure he knew I was there.

"Dean?" I said quietly. He opened his eyes. "Why were you in that place?" I asked.

"B-because I'm crazy."

Tbc…

--More coddling next chap!--


	4. Chapter 4

--Need I say no Wincest?--

**Crazy for Trying**

**Day 17 (Midnight)**

"B-because I'm crazy." He said, voice trembling. I looked down at him, disbelieving what he had just said. He wasn't kidding, at all. I could tell by his tone that he meant every word.

"What?" I blurted. I couldn't believe it.

"I'm c-crazy." He repeated. I shook my head.

"No, no, Dean, you're not crazy." I said.

"Yes I am," He whispered, closing his eyes. "H-he told me I was." I shook my head, eyes pained. What had that asshole done to him?

"Why do you think you're crazy, Dean?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady. His lip was trembling again.

"Because he wo-wouldn't have hurt me if i-it was true." He whimpered. I swallowed hard.

"Dean, look at me." I said, touching his cheek. He opened his eyes and looked up at me. "You _are not_ crazy." I said firmly. I could see by looking at him he didn't believe me.

"No, n-no Sammy. It's not r-real. It-it's not real." He shut his eyes again, weakly shaking his head back and forth. My anger toward Manning increased tenfold at that moment. God, he was so scared.

"What's not real, Dean?" I asked gently.

"G-ghosts, demons, all of i-it. It's not real. It's n-not real…" He whispered, like he was afraid to say it too loudly.

"Dean, no," I shook my head and held his face between my hands. "You know that's a lie. He lied to you. Ghosts are real-"

"No!" He yelped. He looked around wildly, his breathing rapid. "D-don't say that! Don't say th-that!" I winced and swallowed.

"Dean, no one's gonna take me away, alright? No one can hear me right now," I assured. "You know that's a lie, Dean. You know it is." He shook his head a little harder.

"No…" He moaned. "No…" His voice was killing me.

"Dean," I held his face again. "Dean, what killed Mom?"

"Fire." I was going to kill Manning. I was going to cut his throat out with a rusted spoon. I was going to peel his face off layer by layer. He'd done this to him. He'd made my brother so afraid of the truth that he didn't see it. He brainwashed him.

I shook my head.

"No, Dean, c'mon you know the truth. What killed Mom?" I urged.

"Fire."

"What killed Dad?" I made sure his eyes stayed locked with mine. His eyes were moist, his mind searching. He knew the right answer, I know he did. But he was just too scared. "C'mon, Dean, what killed Dad?"

"A…a demon." He whispered so quietly I could barely hear him. I smiled lightly at him, nodding.

"What killed Mom?" He swallowed, biting his lip before he answered.

"A demon." I knew how hard it was for him to say it. But he said it. For the first time in my life I was happy my brother was so damn stubborn.

"That's right," I smiled. "That's right, Dean." I hugged him tight, letting him cry some more. Manning had nearly killed him. He had brought my brother to the brink of madness. He'd broken him. The proof was in the tears soaking my shirt.

"It's okay, it's okay, Dean. It's okay. It's the truth. You know that, huh?" I asked gently. He nodded, his fingers clenching my shirt. "Shh…"

The door opened behind me and we both jumped.

"Sorry," Bobby mumbled. He set the bowl he had carried in on the nightstand next to me.

"Can I talk to you for a sec?" He asked. I nodded and carefully lowered Dean back onto the bed. I stood and followed him to the doorway.

"What is it?" I asked. Bobby scratched the back of his neck before he looked at me.

"What rooms did you see at the loony bin?" He asked quietly.

"I saw a cafeteria and…I think it was where they did electro shock therapy." I swallowed. Bobby nodded.

"Yeah, I saw a few more."

He told me about a dark room, pitch black when the door was closed. It was small and the temperature was at least ten degrees cooler than the rest of the place. He asked a passing patient and said it was called The Hole.

Bobby saw the showers too. A concrete wall that was still wet at the far end, a drain in the middle and a fire hose still dripping with water. And the last room he saw that might be of importance to me was one whose walls were bloodstained. Clubs hung on the walls, caked in blood. He said when he saw Dean's bruises he was pretty sure they'd match the kind of wounds those clubs give.

Now it was confirmed. Manning was a dead man.

"Just thought you should know, kid." Bobby said. He turned and walked out of the room. I sat back down next to him. He'd get better, I knew that. I just wasn't sure if he'd ever be the same again.

~*~

He accepted the soup Sam was giving him. He wished he would move faster. He was _so_ hungry, but he knew Sam was doing what was best for him.

His head pounded, his body shook with chills from his fever that was slowly starting to break. Every bruise on his body throbbed in time with his heart. The burns from the tazers were a constant agony and he wanted to sleep so desperately…

But he couldn't sleep. If he slept he was sure he'd have nightmares. He hated nightmares. Especially when he wasn't strong enough to hide the fact that he had had any.

Saying that a demon killed his mom and dad was hard, unbelievably hard. And after he said it he waited fifteen minutes before he was sure he wouldn't be punished because of it. He wanted to forget The Asylum with all of his might, but it would not go away. Every breeze that made him shiver threw him back in dark rooms, against concrete walls being sprayed with razor blades. Every time Sam's hand moved he expected it to come at him, striking him for something he said or did.

The conscious part of his mind told him that Sam would never hurt him. The subconscious part told him that everyone could hurt him and would because he deserved it.

The soup filled him up and made him warm, for awhile. Sam helped him lie back down and started rubbing his forehead again.

"You need to sleep." He said. Dean shook his head, his eyes begging his younger brother.

"Pl-please, Sammy, please, no." He whimpered.

"Hey, hey, hey," Sam said, brow creasing. "Dean, you have to sleep, you have to," Dean shook his head again. "I'll be right here, okay? You'll be alright." Dean grabbed his brother's hand to reassure himself.

"It's okay," Sam repeated. "It's alright, I promise."

Dean relaxed, as much as he possibly could, and slowly let his eyes close.

~*~

Dean's eyes flew open, his breath heavy, Manning's cackling still ringing in his ears.

"No! No, no, no, no, not again!" He screamed. Sam jumped awake from his doze, and looked down at his distressing brother. He squeezed Dean's hand tighter and put his other hand on his forehead.

"Hey, Dean, it's alright!" Sam exclaimed. "Shh…It's okay." Dean inhaled deeply, gaining his composure and lowering his heart rate.

"Sammy?" Dean croaked.

"Shh, I'm here, it's alright." Sam assured. The effects of the dream were starting to wear off. He was slowly starting to relax. There was a long lapse of silence. Dean started dozing again.

He vaguely heard the door open but was too far gone.

"I've got him," Bobby said. "Go get some rest, kid."

"But-" Sam protested.

"Just for a few hours. He'll be alright." Bobby said. Sam gave Dean's hand another squeeze before releasing it. Dean wanted to protest but the fog was too thick. Bobby sat down, looking at Dean. His eyes had closed, but he wasn't asleep. Dean's fever had spiked, he could feel it. He was getting colder, his body started to ache even more and his eyes blurred over.

"It's gonna be alright, Dean." Bobby said, placing the back of his hand on Dean's forehead, noting his temperature.

"It hurts," Dean moaned softly. "It hurts, Dad."

Bobby stopped short, making sure he understood what Dean had just said. Dean's eyes were closed, his face leaning into Bobby's hand.

"I know it hurts, Dean. It's gonna be alright," Bobby lifted Dean's head and tipped two more Tylenol and a sip of water into his mouth. "That should help, alright?"

Dean slipped in and out of what could be called consciousness, his vision hazy, hallucinations coming in and out.

Bobby watched Dean carefully, making sure that his fever didn't climb to an alarming temperature and he stayed relatively stable.

That also meant he had to hear Dean talk in his delirious state.

"Mmno," Dean moaned. "No, stop, please. No, please it hurts…"

"Shh…It's okay, Dean." Bobby soothed.

"Saaam…" Dean cried, turning in his head into his pillow. "Saaammy…"

"It's alright, kid. It's okay, shh, it's okay."

"Saaammy!"

"Dean, it's alright," Bobby rubbed his forehead, trying to calm him down. "It's okay, relax, shh…"

Dean was writhing lightly, jerking in pain and fear that Bobby couldn't see.

"Sammy!"

"Shh…"

The door burst open behind him. Sam rushed forward, coming to his brother's side. Bobby got up and out of the way, at a loss for what to do.

"Sammy!" Dean's voice was raw, pleading, begging for Sam to help him.

"Dean, hey," Sam gathered his brother in his arms, hugging for reassurance that he was there. "I'm here, I'm here, shh, it's alright. It's okay, I'm here, you're safe. Shh…Listen to me. I'm here, you're safe, alright?" Dean leaned into Sam's warmth, thanking a God he didn't know for bringing him back. He still wasn't quite sure if this was a dream or not, but it hardly mattered. Sam was here, everything would be fine. Sammy was here.

Sam held his older brother, rubbing the back of his head.

"Shhh, I'm here now, Dean."

"'S cold, Sammy." He moaned. Sam draped one of the comforters that was covering him around his shoulders.

"Better?" Sam asked. Dean nodded. "You're gonna be alright, Dean. Everything's gonna be okay."

Sam fell asleep holding Dean up, his arms wrapped tightly around him and staying that way. Dean fell asleep against Sam's chest, clinging to him when a nightmare reared its ugly head. But Sam was always there, and Dean could always count on that.

**Day 24**

"Alright, that's it!" Dean said, shoving the covers back and standing on wobbling legs. "I am sick to death of bein' in this damn bed! I'm takin' a shower," Sam opened his mouth to protest. "And don't try and talk me out of it. If I have to sit and do nothing for another minute I'll go postal on you and Bobby both."

Sam smiled, he tried not to, but he did. Thankfully Dean didn't see him.

Dean snatched his bag off the floor, grumbling to himself.

His walls were nearly built back up. His mask was in tact and in full swing. Smirk coming and going from its home, cocky attitude showing when Sam tried to get all touchy feely. Oh yeah, he was back.

And Sam couldn't be happier. He knew that this would take more time than Dean was letting on to recover from this completely, but he had bounced back. Sam still had his brother. His closed off, smartass, pain in the ass big brother.

Dean reached for the knob that would take him out into the hallway when he paused. He swallowed hard, bit his lip, and turned around.

"Sam?" He said softly. Sam looked up. "Thanks." Sam smiled lightly.

"Anytime," He said. Silence followed, silence Dean hated. Thankfully, Sam rescued him. "Now go take a shower. Trust me, you need it." Dean smirked at him and walked into the hall and toward the bathroom where the shower was. The shower with nice, warm water that didn't hurt him. Other than never being able to be called crazy again, Dean was okay.

**Day 35**

"Breaking news tonight the head doctor at The Asylum in Dawson County, Robert Manning was reported missing this morning. Police searched his place of residence and The Asylum itself and found shocking evidence of patient abuse and horrifying methods to rid his patients of their sanity. As of now The Asylum is closed. There are no predictions as of yet where Manning might be, but if he is found he could be facing serious charges. More updates soon."

**Day 567**

"Dr. Robert Manning, the head doctor at The Asylum int Dawson County, has been declared dead by both friends and family members. After such a long time, they understand that Manning's body will show up soon or that he will come out of hiding. It seems that the mystery of Dr. Robert Manning's whereabouts would never be solved."

**THE**

**END**

--Thank you. Please review!--


End file.
